Bliss in Pain
by limited sanity
Summary: When the pain inside becomes too much, sometimes it's easier to deal with if there is physical pain instead. Warning angst. Snape cuts himself. You have all been warned.


Disclaimer: I don't own Severus Snape or Albus Dumbledore. They belong to J.K Rowling.  
  
A/N. Hmm, I think I should warn you all before you read this fic. It's not going to be humorous, fun or loving. It's simply going to tell what it feels like for people who cut themselves. There is an author out there called IceAngel that wrote a poem called Numb.  
  
It made me face a lot of things that I've been trying to avoid for a long time, but after I read the poem, I just couldn't. So I guess you could say this fic is some sort of therapy. Please, review and tell me what you think. Oh, and don't be too harsh?  
  
Bliss in Pain.  
  
In mankind there is great power, but also great weakness, though the amount of these things varies from one person to another.  
  
I've always known that I have a lot of power in me, but that does nothing to take away the thoughts that have been in my head for as long as I can remember. Thoughts and feelings that I know to be true, even though Albus many times have tried to tell me differently. He does that some times, you know. Tries to make me feel better about myself but his frantic attempts are to no avail. I know I'm weak and worthless. Always has and always will 'til the day I die.  
  
Albus thinks I've landed myself in a deep depression. That, of course, is not the case; I simply have no illusions regarding myself. Lately I've noticed Albus starring at me a lot, sometimes I even get the feeling that he's following me around.  
  
He's done that ever since he found me in my room with a razor in my hand. My left trousers leg had been rolled up and blood had seeped from the cuts I had made only seconds before he had walked trough the door.  
  
Never in my life had I been so angry and embarrassed at the same time.  
  
I've always been a very personal man, and that moment had indeed been very personal. Nevertheless, Albus had refused to leave my rooms that evening, and had stayed by my side until dawn had arrived, and it had been time to teach the students.  
  
Since that day I haven't dared cut myself again. It feels like he's watching all the time, and my cutting are for my eyes only. You could say it is my safety blanket; when everything else in the world goes wrong, and the pain and anger builds up inside me, I can always restore to cutting myself.  
  
When I do that it all makes more sense; it's like I can understand it all a lot better when I can see the reason why something hurts, something like a cut. Things tend to get very confusing when there isn't anything physical that I can link my pain to, and that's why I cut myself. At least it was in the beginning; now I cut myself because I need the pain. I need it like other people needs Heroin or cigarettes.  
  
I don't have that comfort any longer; Albus has taken my safety blanket from me, and therefore also what is left of my sanity and desire to live.  
  
But why should Albus stop me from doing the only thing in the world that I seek relief and comfort in? He has no right to do that!  
  
As I think that thought my fingers starts to reach out for the little box I keep in the drawer in my nightstand. Carefully I remove the lid and take out the shining razor. It's so beautiful and at the same time so horribly terrifying.  
  
My hands are shaking. They always do that as if they don't want me to do it. As if they think it's wrong to cut myself.  
  
I place the razor at the base of my knee, take a deep shaking breath, and slit it fast downwards. It doesn't hurt in the beginning. It even takes a while before the blood comes gashing out. That's when I can feel the pain. That's when I can actually see why I'm in pain. But this one cut is not enough to satisfy me. It doesn't hurt nearly enough.  
  
My hands are steadier this time; more sure of themselves. The next cut is deeper, and it hurts more.  
  
Still not enough.  
  
It keeps going like this until I'm so tired that I can hardly lift my hands anymore. I pull the sheets over me, and I can feel the blood seep through them. The soft cotton rubs painfully against the cuts every time I move or even breath.  
  
Perfect bliss, perfect agony.  
  
Oh, yes. There is great power in mankind but, thankfully, also great weakness.  
  
Okay, I actually finished it! WOW, I'm so proud of myself. I'd be really glad if you'd review on this one. 


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